As the ringing of the bass drum sounds, there is but one thing I want. A wish few people would understand, underestimated people of the time. Over articulated in everything. This thing I want so desperately is so wrong but it feels so blissfully right. The pounding of the bass drum kills but every last soul. The only thing I can do now is what I crave, it has come to seem as my only option. Exquisitely delightful, it seems like I must.
The blood is draining from my cold blue face. The effort I once put in has drowned in a sea of nothingness, a heap of pointless struggles. The effortless smile spreads across my face as a once in a life time event happens. The pounding of thee drum grows more intense with every hit, like a strapping thunder clap from nearby in the village. All of this running through your head only for silence to ring out and coldness to engulf thy soul.
YOU ARE READING
Wonderland poetry
PoetryThis book will be a collection of poetry made by me. A journey through sadness and happiness, and the abstract journey through wonderland.
